In the auditorium, a lava of emotions bursted. The audience, mostly old men bespectacled and humpbacked in a creepy way, brandished their canes in the air and made strange sibilant sounds, as if striking invisible enemies. There were two other men on stage, each enlightened by the limelight. The taller and younger one (the Prime Minister), standing at roughly 6 feet, suddenly casted a stern and icy look at the audience after he turned around from strolling. The hubbub smothered instantly. He gestured to the shorter one, who then captured his signal and ran to the control room. Then, a large portrait of Judah appeared on the gigantic screen, which provoked another round of bustle amongst the audience- except that this time the shouting was more ferocious and hysterical- and the two men on the stage agitated this hustle and bustle by making gestures of shooting Judah with a pistol. After that, a huge caption in red capitals appeared on Judah’s skinny countenance, which read TRAITOR & ENEMY OF ROYALTY. The audience roared and shouted out unanimously, “Get him and dice him up! Get him and dice him up!...”

Mind you, the “Judah” they referred to was the deputy minister of science and technology who made all kinds of war machines. Before the hubbub created by the Annihilator occurred, he home-tutored me in physics. When I first met him, honestly, I didn’t discern a hint of him being Royalty’s deputy minister of science.  His straw hat, wrinkled countenance, and the fact that he was crippled all suggested to me that he was merely a layman or some peasant. However, I do not cast doubt on his professional standing now, for I- technically anyone- consent that this man has genius. He could lecture for the whole afternoon on the mechanism of rockets and robots- as though he had actually dissected one of them and peeked inside.

Back then, I was an ambassador deployed by my town to Royalty District to learn physics. Judah, as the smartest man in town,  naturally became my tutor. His handwriting was tough for me to figure out, and sometimes they were so illegible that I did away with the thought of taking any notes, and just listened to his monologues on electric currents, particles, and enthalpy. One day after class ended, I strolled to his living room, only to find him sighing over a pile of blueprints. He started before I asked , “You know the Annihilator, don’t you! Know what? It’s out of control now. Though it is futile in terms of warfare, its harm on human beings is significant- it could still heave an apartment and crush it into debris! It also has this scary self-explosion function: it’ll ignite itself and explode when it’s agitated or fooled. The impulse can bombard our town into cement fragments. The worst thing is that the department is hiding the news from the folks. Their concern is that the people will consider the government as impotent, and hence disrupt production, if not overthrow the regime altogether. Vile people, the officials are. Anyways, if they aren’t going to tell, then I am.”. At that time, I knew nothing about the consequence of disillusioning the public, so I encouraged him to do so.

Time elapsed, and I barely hold any recollections of this man of excellence. A thing I remember deeply, though, is his disposition for cultivating white chrysanthemums. He devoted all his spare time into buying chrysanthemum seeds, planting them, watering them, and fertilizing them.  He often paced idly in his garden, introducing these little angels to me with pride. Indeed, chrysanthemums are themselves beautiful even without his introduction. A sea of sheer white, with some spots of yellow sporadically dotted onto it, gives out an earthy yet aromatic scent. His enthusiasm for chrysanthemums permeated into newspapers and magazines, for I for once even saw his article on fertilizers favorable for white chrysanthemums on the Floral Daily- he wrote under the name “Mr. Green Hand”.

One day, Judah was teaching me about protons and neutrons when suddenly, two men in black and wearing sunglasses intruded into his living room (our classroom, mind you). They stood at the threshold and held whips in their hands, and as they scrutinized Judah they whipped the floor, making a penetrating crackling sound. Both Judah and I shuddered involuntarily. I, bewildered by what I saw, turned to face Judah and saw his serene look, as if telling that he knew exactly what was happening. Judah stood up and walked to the men, who then kicked Judah on the thighs with their boots and slammed the door shut. I had a whim to pursue them, but instead slouched- paralyzed, astounded.

In September, everyone in Royalty knew that Judah was arrested. We had ominous premonitions, but dared not say it out loud- so long as there is hope. Pastor Jeff declared, “Well, let’s not be so pessimistic. Probably he was… promoted by the prime minister, and they decided to give him a surprise.”. Young Bobby speculated, “You’re right, Pastor Jeff, I do think he was, you know… promoted. Probably they even decided to give him a bonus.”. Even mean Jonas consoled, “Nothing to worry about, folks. He’ll be back in no time.”.  Everyone jabbered on to quell the embarrassing vibe, but it somehow made it more awkward.

That year, we had a tense December. We prepared for Christmas, but somehow the gaily spirits were all but gone. Every time I strolled downtown, I felt that the Royalty Children’s Chorus seemed to be downhearted when they sang, the evergreen conifers decorated with Christmas bulbs seemed to tilt, and the gales seemed to be unprecedentedly harsh. No matter how we forced ourselves to stop thinking of poor Judah, we failed. Every time the crows cawed bleakly, and their sound penetrated the air and echoed among the neighborhood, I involuntarily thought of Judah, and the enigma he’s in. “Crows… Ha! As those old folks said, these birds embody enigma. They embody Judah’s plight. Yet they can’t tell me the whereabouts of Judah, can they?”

December was on the brink of January, and the folks were preparing for the new year. From time to time, a truck of men dressed in black and holding whips would ride around the community for surveillance- January, as the reign believed, was “the month of revolt”. As of now, Judah’s plight had already haunted me for three months. Every time I scrolled through my physics textbook, Judah’s wrinkled face appeared in my mind. Every time I listened to the radio, Judah’s coarse intonation echoed. He even appeared in my dreams, often being whipped and by the prime minister with a ten-meter-long whip, electrocuted by colossal thick copper wires, and shouting in agony. I was deeply stuck in feverish delirium for three months- once I was lying on my bed reading a physics magazine when the lean and slightly humpbacked silhouette of Judah flashed at my threshold. I put on my glasses for closer scrutiny, only to find interminable darkness. Another time I was looking out of my window when I found the blurry configuration of Judah watering his chrysanthemums in the garden. I wiped my eyes and found that he had vanished. They said I often hung around Judah’s garden like a phantom, yet I was not even conscious of that.

On January the fourth, when we were still in our dreams, the loudspeaker bursted with unpleasant noise- the muffling sound of electric currents flowing. That startled me and I impulsively sat up. After a few seconds or so, there was a familiar voice belonging to a man in his thirties. I froze, and felt my limbs suddenly go cold and numb- that was the voice of the prime minister coming from the loudspeaker. That wasn’t an auspicious sign. I tried to console myself, “He’s just executing the ritual of announcing ‘news of the month’... Yes, he’ll only announce a bunch of data and praise Royalty. He isn’t executing anyone… No, he isn’t. He’ll probably even be kind enough to exempt a few from the death penalty and exile them to the grasslands instead…”

The prime minister started his speech in his typical cold fashion. “Residents of Royalty District, I will announce the news of the month. Let me start with the simplest message. The Annihilator has played a key role in our warfare with neighboring districts. He had annihilated ten thousand opponents in total. This exploit is unparalleled by any machine created in any other state. The mechanics industry has flourished in Royalty!” This message, alongside the fanatic cheers and claps and whistles of old men (audience in the sanatorium) made me feel a sense of ludicrousness. I knew full well that the Annihilator was incapable of  intense fighting- Judah told me during one class that the supply voltage of the Annihilator was below sufficient, so that it would run low of power after fighting for only an hour, let alone killing ten thousand opponents! I involuntarily let out a defiant chuckle, and a sound barked from the CCTV attached on the ceiling, “Be respectful to the prime minister! This is your first and last warning.” Then, the town anthem started to pour out from the loud speaker, and the old men sang unanimously,

A river of our waves,

Jumping into two seas,

Will bear voice to the ocean,

May eternal be our Royalty!
 
 

Oh beloved land of our ancestors!

We wish to serve you

With the body, heart and spirit that is ours.
 

Do not cry dear mother Royalty,

Raise your head proudly high,

Royalty is free

Free to live!
 

After a three-minute choir, the old men applauded and whistled again, and the Prime Minister continued after their applause died down, “The second feat is that our grain harvest and metal yield has exceeded expectations by 70 percent, in spite of the harsh December. This shows that our town is increasingly strong in terms of agriculture and production. Farmers, steelmakers and other workers, keep up with your work!...” I knew very well that this was staged too, for we haven’t had bread throughout December, as the crops were all destroyed by the bise on December 7th. Yet, the agriculture department could fabricate a satisfactory report sheet by simply rectifying a few statistics. Besides that, the government had launched tariffs on the import of ores- to accord with the reign’s new doctrine of “self sufficiency”. Royalty itself does not have any quarries, so it technically couldn’t yield metal. Nonetheless, it still allegedly yielded “a hundred tons of steel and ninety tons of brass.” I knew more than well that Royalty and Integrity are in fierce competition in terms of agriculture and steelmaking. No district wanted to lose, thus they fabricated tremendous yields and posted them on the forum. The loser will soon make up a larger set of data to surpass the winner, which then loses and posts an immense figure to compete, so on and forth. The Prime Minister played the anthem again, whetting the old men to choir.

Subsequently, the Prime Minister resumed, “Now the vital news. January is the month of revolt, and indeed we captured traitors. Many traitors indeed” The old men made a feigned “Oh?” sound and scenes flashed on the huge display screen beside the loudspeaker. Roughly a hundred criminals down in the dumps appeared on the screen. Some were incarcerated and moaning and pleading for freedom, others were being whipped and kicked by the boots of men in black. I dared not look at the display screen, as if every single frame was torturing me. The prisoners seemed so pathetic- they were just ordinary people being convicted of imaginary crimes to fulfill the ritual of imprisonment. I peeked and saw Pastor Jeff moaning- he picked up a discarded loaf of bread on the porch of the baker’s apartment and was convicted of theft. I wondered, will Judah be one of them? I dug my nails into my pillow. I skimmed through the strange faces, but found no trace of Judah. I was relieved, but at the same time perplexed.

The Prime Minister resumed, “Yet, according to the divine deity of Royalty, the most unforgivable sin is the treasury of officials.” The scene on the screen changed to an arena, roughly the size of a badminton court. In the middle was Judah, except that his body was buried inside a pit at about one and a half meter deep, so that only his neck and head protruded. I gasped and closed my eyes in horror. Then, two men in long robes walked into the arena, each holding a copy of the Royalty Doctrine.  Each of them stood at one side of Judah, cleared their throats and announced sanctimoniously, “As the deity of Royalty once said, the easiest way to capture a fortress is from within. We should hence be aware of any corruptive forces that try to undermine the reign from its interior. The man buried in the pit is a government official, yet he appropriated his power and imparted military rumors to the public, which is like stoning our castle. Blasphemy!  We should then stone him back then.”Then they were upon him.

I felt a spasm of stabbing agony and fainted. In an incandescent tunnel of light I saw the countenance of Judah, waving and smiling- I experienced what was called “near death experience”. The next thing I heard was the morbid and hysterical laughter of old men. The laughter was so creepy that it barely sounded like laughter- hard to imagine that it came from men, not some strained horse or ox or whatever. The Prime Minister proceeded to inaugurate the new deputy minister of science- a creepy old nerd with only a few locks of hair on his glimmering scalp- that was the “paradigm of the month”for December. Booming applause and cheers bursted out of the loudspeaker. The axioms of the party, printed in bold red letters, appeared and slowly dilated on the display screen, “ROYALTY, PIETY, INTEGRITY”. The anthem started to crackle at a pitch that penetrated eardrums. A cracking voice from the CCTV obliged me to sing and clap along to the rhythm. The town teemed with the anthem for an hour after we choired the anthem twenty times. The Prime Minister then dismissed us in a satisfied fashion and shut down the display screen and the loudspeaker.

The town, after the hubbub quelled, was oddly quiet. I sighed and looked out of the window, amazed to find people walking to Judah’s porch, each holding a bundle of white chrysanthemums. They stood in a queue and put the flowers on his porch and in his garden one by one, and each stood for a minute in homage. Gradually,  a sheet of white, decorated with sporadic dots of yellow, with skinny green stems below, filled his porch.